


come home

by meios



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, F/M, Lowercase, Trespasser Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-12
Updated: 2015-09-12
Packaged: 2018-04-20 07:50:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4779527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meios/pseuds/meios
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>try as he might to disconnect himself, she's always there, and each time, it hits him harder.</p>
            </blockquote>





	come home

she cries.  
  
she doesn’t mean to, really. not with her sister clutching a bloodied stump beside her, right hand clutching hers while their brother massages her shoulders, trying to distract, keep calm, but there is too much hurt in her chest, as if she is taking all of it from flidais, herself.  
  
of course, this is not true. her older sister passes out not too long afterwards as the surgeon stitches the wound, mops up the blood. cullen sits beside her on the bed, _halamshiral_  finally housing an elf as it should: like royalty.  
  
she cries before the  _eluvian_ , touching the cool surface of the mirror with trembling hands, guards sent away, and she whispers to it.  
  
“ _var lath vir suledin_ ,” words repeated like a breath of fog, replaying constantly, interrupting all other thoughts. her forehead on the frame, fingers drawing waves in the magical glass. “find me,” she whispers, “’cause i don’t want to be alone.”  
  
perhaps she isn’t truly alone, either. her sister’s friends are her friends; her brother’s friends are her friends. varric keeps her up at night with his stories, and sera’s always made her laugh. and the iron bull, krem, cole… she should be happy.  
  
“take the  _vallaslin_. take everything away. take me away. i don’t– the templars. the gallows. i-i can’t anymore,  _emma lath_ , not like this. not with  _shemlen_  traipsing around in places they should’ve never touched. never known. we–  _i_  need you. let this be my one selfish request of you: come back to me.  
  
“come home.”  
  
 *****  
  
it hits him like a brick might.  
  
ugly crying, face scrunched up and voice trembling like a headache, whirlpool tears staining the cloth of her nightgown, and the images are so clear, so quick and intense and shattering that he stumbles.  
  
he breaks like the glass does.  
  
and there are tears now, too. pain in his chest, the knowledge of how scars got there, how they still hurt, phantom aches in places that should have never been violated. he vomits a little, spitting, and reaches up to clutch his necklace only to find it gone. around her neck.  
  
he is silent, though. coughing only slightly, barely, jaw clenched and eyes screwed shut, and he shouldn’t, he  _should not_ , love does not look kindly upon the kind of person he is. he should let her move on, but–  
  
 _come home_.  
  
“find me,” he whispers.  
  
 *****  
  
and she knows.  
  
and she leaves, cloak like a train behind her.


End file.
